Detritus
by fred mertz
Summary: silly first try


Gandalf threw on his pointed hat and headed out the door of Bag End, Hobbiton. He had to get his wizard-butt in gear and sashay on down to old Tom Bombadil's place for the meeting that they had arranged the previous week. Tom wanted to talk over with Gandalf several strange things that he had seen and heard of in his part of the forest. So Gandalf hiked up his skirts and made haste in the direction of Bombadil's house. It didn't take him long to get there either.a lot shorter than it took anyone to get anywhere in the actual LotR. As a matter of fact, he is there right now.  
  
"Say Tom" muttered Gandalf as he came in the door without knocking, throwing his pointy wizard hat onto the hand carved wizard hat holder. Tom, laying on the sofa, rolled over and cracked open one eye.  
  
"'bout time you got here, Gandalf" uttered Tom, while slowly getting up and stretching his arms above his head and then toward the wall. "I expected you more than five minutes ago! Why are you so late?"  
  
Gandalf looked a little exasperated at Tom's impatience, but answered his question calmly nonetheless. "I had to deal with a troll with a nasty head cold I met along the way. He saw me and instantly started complaining about the terrible cold that he had. He told me of all the concoctions he had tried, including stuffing large quantities of forest moss up his nose. At which point he promptly sneezed, shooting large quantities of forest moss and Troll bogies all over me. Not having a tissue quite large enough for the task at hand, I had to summon a Snot Sprite of Vaporadun. The sprite apparated promptly, and quickly did a brilliant job of moss and snot removal. The sprite vanished just as rapidly, making a quick job of an ugly business. I then told the troll that in order to remove a head cold of such proportions, one must hold one's gigantic noggin in a Pond of Decongestion. Contained within such a pond are cute little fish similar to Goa'uld symbiotes that quickly swim in and out of your nose and nasal passages, consuming mucous and phlegm all along the way. Of course these little fellas don't take over your personality, they just take over your cold. Upon removing your gynormous cranium from the pond, the fish happily squiggle out of your nose, dropping back into the pond with enough sustenance for a month. That is why I was five minutes late, Tom "Mr. Punctuality" Bombadil".  
  
"Don't get your knickers in a twist!", exclaimed Tom after Gandalf's story. "I realize that you are an important wizard and have to help all sorts of creatures that you see along the way. Why, just last time you were visiting, you were also late and told me of the tree with the dry-bark condition who complained that she couldn't find relief with any sap she tried. And then of the mutant gnome with the two mouths who had given up on dating because it was impossible to make small talk with one mouth while the other mouth was shouting insults. And then of the Ranger who kept getting lost because one leg was shorter than the other and he kept going in circles. And then."  
  
"Okay, OKAY", said Gandalf in rather a louder voice than he had intended. "You've made your point! I am late all the time. I get it! And yes, I do help lots of people. And do you think they are grateful? Oh sure, sometimes one or two. But usually it's just 'Great, I can squeak again', or 'Super, I don't have to floss so much now' and off they go without even saying 'Thanks Gandalf, you're a dear' or 'That's great Gandalf, you are really a wizard wizard'. Nope, they are mostly ungrateful louts. That's what they are, ungrateful sons of."  
  
"Okay, I get the drift", interrupted Tom at the appropriate moment. "Take a chill pill."  
  
At which point Gandalf sat down on the sofa without so many thorns in it, and made himself comfortable. He had a pouch of Longbottom weed that Pippin had given him, and he tamped a goodly portion of it into his favourite pipe. Not wanting to irritate Tom any further, he simply lit the pipe with a match. However, when he lit the match by scratching it on Tom's scabby cat Mr. Dinkums, he did manage to further irritate Tom.  
  
"Gandalf, you great oaf. How dare you use Mr. Dinkums as an object to light your match! Granted he has many fine and scaly scabs, but that doesn't give you the right to do that now!" Tom was really ticked off. Mr. Dinkums hadn't even noticed the scratching of the match on his scaly hide, so didn't understand why Tom was in such a furor. Wanting to soothe Tom, the cat jumped up onto Tom's lap and began to purr, hoping this would calm Tom down. Unfortunately, Tom had been working in the sulfur, potassium and charcoal mines that day, and the detritus on Tom's shirt burst into flame from the scabrous friction. Tom was incensed - and didn't smell too good either. He jumped up and started running around the room like a madman, yelling at the top of his lungs "I don't much like being set afire by my cat!" He ran out the door and hopped into the closest pond in an effort to douse his burning shirt. Sadly, it was a Pool of Decongestion, and Tom didn't have a cold. The cute little fish in this pond were hungry for phlegm and Tom was Phlegm-less. But before the fish could make up their collective minds what to do with this uninvited phlegm- less interloper, Gandalf stepped outside, summoned the Snot Sprite, invoked the counter-snot incantation, and filled the pond with mountains of thick, steamy snot. The cute little fish quickly forgot Tom and his incendiary chest hairs, making a feast of their new found windfall (or would that be nosefall?)  
  
Tom drug himself out of the pond, and found himself thanking Gandalf for his quickness and imagination. Thereupon he and Gandalf both started to laugh. "What a pair we make", they said in unison as they headed back into Tom's home; Tom's chest still smoking a bit, and Gandalf wiping a final tear of laughter from his cheek. They headed for the kitchen where Tom promised to make them both a nice cup of tea. Mr. Dinkums even padded in, got in his basket, and curled up by the stove as the sun went down to lick his scabs. 


End file.
